Pretend
by tragicbeauty1991
Summary: Losing a hand is painful. Losing a friend is even worse. He acts as though he doesn't care, but sometimes even grownups pretend.  Based on SyFy's Neverland. Set right after the duel in which Hook loses his hand. Hook & Peter FRIENDSHIP.


**Author's Note: After watching SyFy's _Neverland_ I was left somewhat unsatisfied. In particular, I really wish they would have shown how Starkey and Hook escaped from the cave. Starkey was jealous of Hook throughout the majority of the movie, so I doubt he'd really go to all that much trouble to save him. Plus, despite their growing hatred of one another, I just can't see Peter leaving Jimmy to bleed to death (what a slow and painful way to die!). Also, if we are to assume that the events of the original novel take place shortly after Peter loses his shadow, then Wendy should be appearing in Neverland soon. By that time, the captain has already begun wearing his hook, so somehow he must have healed up miraculously fast...Well, this is my theory of what happened between the scene of Hook and Starkey in the cave and the scene when Peter appears to the boys. Hope you like it! **

**~CaptainHooksGirl~**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Peter Pan_ or _Neverland_.**

**Pretend**

Pain. Unbearable, unimaginable, nauseating pain that made his head swim and his lacerated wrist throb with every beat of his heart. If he had been a weaker man, he would have probably lost consciousness by now, but unfortunately, James Hook was an especially stubborn man, and so he remained awake even as the pool of blood around him grew larger and larger. Starkey had found an alternative route out of the caves and had left to go get help. But he had been gone for hours, and Hook was beginning to think he might not be coming back. He drew another shaky, shuddering breath.

_Cold…So…cold…_

Already the edges of his vision had begun to fade into that glorious blackness, that sweet and silent darkness of the grave. Death called to him like a siren, her open arms comforting and warm. This time he did not fight it, willingly giving in to the blissful state of unawareness, for even a strong man cannot resist her call forever.

"Jimmy?"

His eyes snapped open. "If…if you've come back to finish me off, Peter…then…get on with it," he spat.

Peter frowned. The man before him was so incredibly pale…so utterly lifeless. That ambitious spark in his eyes, which Peter had both feared and admired, was gone. This man was certainly not the Jimmy he knew from London, but he wasn't quite James Hook, either.

"If I'd wanted to kill you, I would have already done it."

Hook closed his eyes. His breathing was ragged. "Then, why…are you here…?"

They boy hesitated. "I came back to help you."

The captain laughed darkly. "Help me? Why should you…want…to help me…when this entire situation is _your fault_!" His voice echoed off the walls of the cave.

Peter looked down guiltily. "I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen. If you'd just let me help—"

"I don't _need _your help!" Hook struggled to sit up, breathing hard. "I swear, Peter…if I could…get up right now…I'd run you through!

"Oh, stuff it!" Peter felt the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. "You can try to kill me later, but right now you clearly need help—whether you'll admit it or not! Now you can either sit here and bleed to death or you can shut up and let me help you!"

When Hook did not respond, he continued.

"Look at me, Jimmy. You always said that a man's intent was in his eyes. You think I'm lying? Well, look at my eyes, and tell me what you see! I wish I could take it back, Jimmy! I wish we hadn't fought. I wish we'd never even come to Neverland in the first place! And if I could take it all back, I would…I would…"

"It wouldn't change anything, Peter," Hook sighed. He sounded tired, weary. "What's done is done."

Peter looked down. "Like it or not, you _were_ my father for nearly ten years of my life," he whispered. He glanced up again, forcing himself to meet Hook's gaze. "You were my best friend…And I can forgive you for what you've done in the past, but I cannot forgive you if you just sit here and let the blood drain from you without even trying to save yourself!" He lowered his voice again. "And I won't forgive myself if I let you do it. The Jimmy I knew was a fighter. He taught me to never give up…So don't you give up now…" He had to swallow back a lump in his throat. "Don't die."

He knelt down and wrapped Hook's left arm around his shoulders so that he could help support his weight. "Come on. Get up."

Reluctantly, the captain obeyed, attempting to stand on his impossibly shaky legs. But the sudden movement was too much for him, and in an instant, he was back on his knees, vomiting over the edge of the cliff. When at last he had voided his stomach contents, he spat, closing his eyes and attempting to catch his breath.

Peter rubbed his back, as he remembered Jimmy doing once when he'd been sick with the stomach virus. Those days seemed so long ago now. "Easy, Jimmy. We'll take it a bit slower this time."

He hated feeling so completely helpless. He hated the boy's patronizing demands. To fall to one's enemy was humiliating enough; to be saved by one's enemy was even worse. Death would have been a kinder fate, by far. Yet in his weakened state, he could hardly fight back, and so begrudgingly, he complied. When at last he managed to stand, Peter spoke.

"Do you think you can walk?"

Instead of answering, he took a small step forward, but his legs were rather unsteady, and he stumbled. If Peter hadn't been there to catch him, he might very well have tumbled right over the edge!

Peter glanced up at a small hole in the roof of the cave. The passage through which he'd seen Starkey exit the caves was much too long a distance for anyone in Hook's condition to walk, but if they could fly then maybe…

"Hold on."

In one swift movement, Peter slid his left arm beneath Jimmy's knees and began levitating toward the cave's ceiling.

"Peter, what are you doing?" he hissed.

"Getting us out of here!"

Within moments, they had cleared the roof and were hovering just above the treetops on Bull's Island. In the distance, a plume of smoke was still rising from the burned out tree spirit colony. Peter glanced briefly at the ship, which was quickly making its way toward the mainland, and Hook followed his gaze.

"Why, that lying, cowardly, pathetic—" He clenched his fist, or rather, he tried to. Except that the fist was no longer there, and the shockwave of pain coupled with the bulging of bloody tissue at his wrist was enough to make him gag. But he would not embarrass himself again. "I ought to string his innards up from the rigging when I get back," he panted.

When Peter began to head in the opposite direction, Hook was quick to object. "Where are you taking me?" he demanded. Not that it really mattered. He was too tired to try to fight.

"To the mineral springs." He didn't bother to explain any further. "Hey, Jimmy," Peter smiled, "don't look now, but you're flying."

The former fencing teacher smiled weakly at the irony of the situation. "So I am," he sighed. "Though given the circumstances…it's not quite as exhilarating as I'd imagined."

And for a moment, Peter thought he saw a glimpse of his old friend in those weary eyes. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Peter had to resign himself to the fact that the Jimmy _he_ knew was never coming back. He sighed.

"What happened to you, Jimmy? Why did you change? Was it _her_?" He was treading dangerous waters. "She didn't love you, Jimmy! You were just a puppet to her, another plaything who could help her get what she wanted."

"You know nothing of love!"

"I know that you loved my mother! And I thought…I thought that you loved me like a son."

That certainly shut him up.

"When you thought I was dead, Jimmy, did you even care? Did you even shed a single tear over me, or did you just run back to that woman? You used to be a good man, Jimmy, a man I looked up to."

"That's where you're wrong, Peter… I have never been a good man… I am a thief, a liar, a murderer… Neverland just opened your eyes to what was already there."

"You saved me from the workhouses."

"What I did for you, I did out of selfishness. And it was clearly a mistake."

Peter felt his heart sink, and simultaneously, their altitude. "What about the others? Perhaps what you did for me was not out of kindness, but surely you didn't save all of us for personal gain. What about Nibs and Curly and Slightly? What about Twins and Tootles and…and Fox?"

Hook dropped his gaze, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. "That was a long time ago, Peter."

As they neared the tree spirit colony, Peter began to descend until they came to rest just near the edge of the mineral waters. He gently set Hook on the ground, careful to avoid further injuring his right arm, and began walking around the perimeter.

"Tink?" he called. "Tinkerbell, where are you?"

The pretty little fairy, who had been following them at a distance the entire time, slowly emerged from the forest. Thankfully, the astral energy harnessed within her tiny body had been strong enough to revive her from her close brush with death. She was not particularly happy to see the pirate so close to the mineral waters again. She knew Peter's heart was good, but she had no intentions of healing the man who had so ungraciously stepped on her and slaughtered so many of her people.

"Peter," her whispery voice echoed in his mind, "if you save him, he will only bring more destruction to this land. I know he was your friend, but that does not change what he has done. He must be stopped, Peter."

"But I can't just let him die, Tink!"

"If you use the mineral water to save him, he will gain some of its powers—just as you have. Anyone who is exposed to it will always carry a trace of its magic. We can't risk that."

Peter shook his head. "There's got to be _some _way that you can help him. Please, Tink. If not for him, then do it for me."

The fairy sighed. "Very well. There is _one_ way. But I'm afraid I cannot help you. I am too small to heal a human with my powers alone. You must be the one to do it, Peter. And it could be dangerous."

Peter was undaunted. "Tell me what to do."

"The mineral dust gives you many powers, Peter—including the power to heal others."

The boy seemed intrigued. "How?"

"By giving them a part of your power."

"How do I do that?"

"Place your hands on the wound and recite the healing chant. Focus your mind on what you want to heal, and the wound will seal up. Just enough power will go out of you to complete the healing—no more, no less."

"But I don't know the chant!"

"You will, Peter. You will. It is different for everyone. Yours will come to you when the time is right."

Peter considered her words thoughtfully. "Why is it dangerous?"

"Because it makes you vulnerable. Your powers will be temporarily weakened after the healing process is complete. You might not be able to fly for awhile, and if he should try to kill you, then—"

"Jimmy won't kill me!" He glanced over his shoulder where Hook sat propped against a tree. His eyes were nearly glazed over; his breathing was short and shallow. "At least…not like this. He may have changed, Tink, but he's still got _some_ sense of honor."

The little tree spirit looked skeptical. "I hope for your sake, you're right."

Then, without another word, she flew off into the forest.

Peter walked over to his fallen enemy and knelt in the grass beside him. "Jimmy," he gently shook his shoulder. "Jimmy, Tink told me how to heal you. Let me see your arm." He reached to pull back the bloodied cloth surrounding Hook's wrist only to have the arm jerked away from his grasp.

"DON'T TOUCH IT!" he roared. But the effort behind his struggle was too much. His head was spinning again.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, but it's the only way."

"You mean…the only way to keep me…from getting the power of the mineral dust."

Peter glared. "I wouldn't have to keep it from you if you weren't so greedy. Now hold still!"

Restraining the arm with one hand he put his other hand on the end of the stub and closed his eyes, trying to forget the bloodied tangle of raw nerves and severed bones. Hook was howling in agony, but Peter forced himself to focus. And suddenly there was a strange melody on his lips in a language he didn't understand with words that had never heard. It was as if he were in some sort of trance. His lips moved, yet he could not control what he was saying. He could feel the power slowly seeping out of his fingertips, closing up the flesh around the gaping wound.

Meanwhile, Hook was experiencing an explosion of pain. It was like lightning was flying from the boy's fingers, like an electrical shock or a hot iron had been applied to his wrist. It was throbbing, burning, as if he had thrust his arm into a pit of live coals. And then…it was as if nothing had ever happened. In fact, he felt no pain at all, just a strange, numbing sensation as if his missing hand had merely fallen asleep. He was sweating, gasping, but he no longer felt lightheaded or nauseous. And the skin at his wrist had completely healed over so that the injury looked months rather than hours old. He stared at the boy in wonder. If the mineral dust could give someone that kind of power…

"How did you do that?" he whispered.

Peter just smiled his characteristically cocky grin. "You're welcome." He stood somewhat awkwardly. "Well…I suppose I should be getting back to the boys. For all they know, I was buried alive in the caves. You should be able to make it back from here. The Indians have lost so many men that I doubt the passageway is guarded. Besides, right now they think you and Bonny are both dead, so there isn't much of a reason for them to have guards posted." He hesitated. "I don't suppose you'd consider coming back to stay with me and the boys?"

Hook stood, sighing. "Peter, I am going back to the pirates. _They_ are my boys now. Sooner or later we _will _find a way to harness the power of the mineral dust, and I will cut down _anyone_ who happens to be in my way."

Peter frowned. "And I will do everything within my power to stop you."

"There's still room for you in my crew." But he already knew the boy's answer.

Peter shook his head.

"Pity. We would have made a great team."

Peter smiled sadly. "Yeah. Yeah, we would have." He turned to leave. He hadn't taken two steps when he heard a subtle click.

"Unfortunately, I don't take 'no' for an answer, Peter."

Peter stopped walking and calmly turned to face his opponent. He did not look at the pistol but at the captain's eyes. "Whatever happened to 'guns are a coward's weapon'?" He shook his head. "You're no coward, Jimmy."

Hook hesitated but did not lower the gun.

Peter continued. "I hate that you killed my father. I hate what you did to the tree spirits. I hate that you've become one of _them_." He could feel the tears coming back. "But I don't hate _you_. I don't _want_ to be your enemy, Jimmy. Somewhere inside of you is a brave man, a good man. Perhaps one day, you'll find him." Once again he turned to leave. Something wet slipped down his cheek. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

Slowly, silently, Hook returned the gun to his side as he watched the boy wander off into the forest. There was a strange stinging sensation at the back of his eyes. _Must be the smoke on the breeze._

Only the breeze was coming from the wrong direction.

But we shall allow Hook to pretend that it was otherwise, for we all play pretend from time to time—even grownups. Especially grownups.


End file.
